Love comes slowly at Baker Street - 30 Day OTP Challenge
by catcraful
Summary: The classic 30 Day OTP challenge, Johnlock Edition. John and Sherlock both knew they loved each other from the very first moment but it takes time for both to realize. Rated M for upcoming smut. Cover photo taken by myself. Jupp, that's in front of Bart's. Jupp, that's an otter on the exact spot where Sherlock's head lay... you know when. *sniff*
1. Holding Hands

**Day One – Holding Hands**

Dumb idea. This was the dumbest idea he'd had in ages. He shouldn't – he really shouldn't have done that. But now, he found himself next to the one and only Sherlock Holmes, the world's most famous (and only) consulting detective trying to catch his breath.

"You alright?", asked the man in question, standing up and with one swift move shuffling away the strands of hair that had fallen into his face.

"Y.. yes." John coughed. He felt the last two years without exercise - or at least without chasing through London at night's sleep time – in all of his bones. He wasn't used to this anymore. "So, we missed him…" his lungs were still craving for more air. "Can we _please_ go back home now?" John lifted himself off the ground, brushing dust from his legs and coat.

"Of course, John." Sherlock was just about to turn back out of the side alley towards the main road when he heard a gunshot not far from them. He rather felt than saw the bullet cutting through the air, missing his head only by inches and hitting the wall right above John's head.

The captain immediately switched into army mode. "_Run!",_ he yelled, taking Sherlock's hand and pulling him out onto the main road. Everything became a blur. The streets flew past, John felt numb, not hearing any sounds other than his blood pumping through his veins, his heart exploding in his chest. He didn't feel anything neither. Not the pain in his legs due to the extensive running, not the pain in his lungs due to lack of oxygen. Not even the pain in his bad shoulder due to dragging his friend through the London night back into security.

_I'm going to kill him. I'm _so _going to kill him. What was he even thinking? Tricking me into chasing a killer through London only to find out that he was very, very angry and very, very eager to kill us both._

John did only slow down when they finally arrived at Baker Street, only then noticing how tired and exhausted he was. He collapsed against the black front door, his lungs were rattling. He never wanted to move ever again. Never ever. He let his head fall against the threshold, subconsciously not letting go of Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock cleared his throat, slightly pulling at John's hand. "Um… John. First: Get up there. You're gonna catch a cold and we both know that doctors are the worst patients. Second: If you keep holding my hand that tightly, you're most likely to break or bruise something which would be _slightly_ inconvenient. And third: I get cold. Let me open the bloody door." With that, he pulled the tired man up and into an embrace to support him as he was unsure if John was still able to stand once he had collapsed on the stairs leading to their front door. He got his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

John felt unsteady on his feet, but Sherlock's grip and embrace prevented him from falling. He felt so tired suddenly, he leaned his head against his best friend's chest, feeling his heart pounding hart in its cage. _He lived. They lived. Everything was alright._ John tried to steady his breath and in that moment, the door flew open and Sherlock ushered them both in. He was just about to let go of John's hand to fly up the stairs as he heard a sob escaping his friend's mouth. That's what made him change his mind; he squeezed John's hand and then pulled him up the stairs into their sitting room.

"When did it start raining? I didn't notice the rain outside"… John looked down on his damp clothes in confusion. "I feel cold, I feel so cold" He threw himself against his mate, trying to catch some of the warmth of Sherlock's body. Everything was still so blurry, his mind was clouded_. What time was it? Midnight? Past midnight? And where was he? Baker Street? Yes… smells like Baker Street… and Smoke… and Sherlock… sweet tender scent of Sherlock… Sherlock…_ He felt no more ground underneath his feet but he didn't care. He was just so tired.

Sherlock carried the weeping mess in his bedroom as he would have to climb more stairs in order to reach John's, so his would have to do. He lay him down on his bed, pulling first his shoes and socks, then his coat off. He undressed both of them efficiently and quickly down to their pants and then rummaged through his drawers searching for warm pyjama pants. He put an old pair on, and then helped John into another pair. John seemed to have drifted off to sleep by then, so all Sherlock could think of doing was to cover his mate and tuck the sheets neatly in. He then lay down next to him, immediately falling asleep as well. All whilst holding John's hand.

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**Thank you for reading, commenting and following. Love you all. X**


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Day Two – Cuddling Somewhere**

_Hot. It's so hot – wasn't it so unbearably cold only seconds ago?_ John woke up to a bright morning. The clouds that had hung over London for the last four days had vanished after draining themselves last night. John was confused. Where was he? He opened his eyes and found himself underneath several blankets and – SHERLOCK? Yes. His favourite detective lay protectively on him, his head with the thick ebony curls on his chest, long limbs entangled with his own. One of his long violinist hands cupped John's face, lazily stroking his cheek every now and then. His right hand still held tight onto John's, fingers entwined. Were they – cuddling? John blinked fast, suddenly feeling both a chill running down his spine and a certain heat developing deep down in his stomach.

_Heat. Yes. Too hot. Waaay too hot. I need to get out of here! _But then again, John didn't want to wake Sherlock up, happy that the detective actually rested even though he was on a case. His eyes wandered from Sherlock's cheekbones through the room. How did he end up in Sherlock's room? He could barely remember entering the flat; he must have been über-tired. But god, it felt so good lying in Sherlock's bed. Smelling him everywhere – he had missed his detective, he had missed him so much. Tears developed in the corner of his eyes at the thought of Sherlock's faked death two years ago. How much had he grieved, how much had he cried over his best friend's death. It was only then that he realised that he truly and with all his heart loved Sherlock. He stopped dating, stopped seeing his friends – he spent fourteen full months in the flat, mourning over his loss. He eventually started to believe that his life could go on and started to socialize again and every day on the ride back from work, he hoped to come home and find his friend sitting in the kitchen bending over some new experiment or standing by the windows, composing new tunes on his violin. Until one day, exactly 724 days after the fall, he came home and Sherlock sat on the stairs to 221b. 'I have lost my keys in Germany' were his only words before John punched him.

He found himself softly massaging Sherlock's scalp when he came back out of his deep train of thoughts. He enjoyed being so close to his friend – but it frightened him just the same. How was Sherlock feeling about this? What did Sherlock feel about him? _Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side… I consider myself married to my work…_ All of these phrases whirled around in John's head.

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A purr-like sound escaped from Sherlock's lips, rather involuntarily. He had woken up exactly 18 minutes and 47 seconds ago but he didn't want to move and decided to pretend to be asleep. John wouldn't notice. The lump in his throat and the heat in his chest that had developed simultaneously yesterday hadn't vanished yet and Sherlock felt strange when he realized how he and his partner in crime were entangled. _Happy – was it happiness he experienced? Comfort? Comfortable, yes. He_ _was_ _certainly comfortable_. And the touch of John's hand in his hair was marvellous. Sherlock had always loved gentle massages on his scalp – but at the moment these touches were limited to those from the hair dresser every other week. And those weren't nearly as relaxing and tender as John's. _Tender? Did I really just think tender? Oh these two years made me weak._ Although Sherlock didn't want to admit it – he had missed John. The whole time being away, John had always been there, all over his mind palace. At first, it was a distraction, keeping him from thinking properly. But then, Sherlock learned to use this – to use John. The thought of him was what kept him alive and what helped him when he was stuck on cases. Sentiment – he learned how to use sentiment, how to cope with it. And then, he came back, back to his blogger.

He squeezed John's hand and opened his eyes. "Morning", he mumbled, turning his head upwards in order to look John in the eyes. He met steel-blue eyes, widened in disbelief and – was it shame?

John withdrew his hand from Sherlock's head but the detective stopped him. "Go on. Please." He snuggled his head against John's chest and took in a deep breath. "I like that"

"I assumed that, Sherlock" This felt so surreal to John. Surreal but nice. _Wait – did I just quote Hugh Grant at me?_ John sighed and kept on ruffling gently through Sherlock's curls. _Sherlock and me cuddling – who'd have thought?_

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**Thanks for reading, commenting and following. Lots of love. X**


	3. Watching A Movie

**Okay, I have to admit, there's not a lot of movie-watching going on. But a bit. And emotions. Good emotions. Stay tuned ;)**

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**Day Three – Watching A Movie**

The two of them stayed that way until John's stomach rumbled loudly. "I think I need to get some breakfast. I'm starving as we skipped dinner yesterday and you should eat something as well." He stopped running his fingers through Sherlock's hair and let go of his hand. He tried to sit up but Sherlock's weight pressed him into the mattress. "Sherlock, please, let me get up"

"Will you make me some cocoa?" The detective looked at him through long lashes. His eyes were sleepily, he had drifted off to sleep several times this morning.

"If this makes you move down from me, yes" John smiled. Cocoa was better than nothing.

Sherlock detangled himself from John and rolled to his side, letting him get up. He admired the view of his topless blogger (he wouldn't admit though) as he left for the kitchen. Sherlock sighed. If every morning was like this – he could easily get used to sleeping every night. Or at least to going to bed every night. He never thought of himself as the great cuddler, but he enjoyed it, he really did.

"Sherlock, is the milk good to drink?" John shouted over to the bedroom. He never trusted the content of their fridge.

"Yes it is. Mrs. Hudson bought it just yesterday." With these words, the detective appeared in the threshold, wearing nothing but a pair of tight pyjama bottoms that had been hidden under the blankets before. John took in a sharp breath at the sight before he turned red. "Enjoying the view?", came Sherlock's reaction with a smirk on his lips.

John quickly turned away to hide his unexpected arousal. What was _that_? Of course, he'd seen his flatmate naked before, but this felt – different, especially with the mock in Sherlock's voice. He concentrated on his toast, took his time to spread the jam and then turned around just to see Sherlock standing only inches behind him. _Christ – how is it even possible for this man to move so damned silently?_

"Sherlock! What are you-" Kissing. Sherlock kissed him. John. John was kissed by Sherlock. After a short moment of shock, John kissed back, to his own surprise. He swept his tongue over Sherlock's lower lip seductively, and the detective opened his lips and let John's tongue slide in. When they finally broke apart, they were both breathless. "Why... what…" John was confused and gave his flatmate a bewildered look, which Sherlock absolutely misunderstood as he abruptly tuned around and rushed back to his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. "Never mind!" were the last words yelled by the detective before he remained silent for the rest of the day.

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No matter how hard he tried – John couldn't lure him out of his room. He tried yelling, pleading, arguing, slamming his fist against the door, even threatening to call Lestrade for a drug burst – nothing brought Holmes out of his room. The case was still unsolved (both their personal as well as the professional) when John finally gave up and retired to the sitting room. He decided on watching the telly, as it was a Saturday night and he was too exhausted to go out. He sipped on a cup of tea and was actually looking forward to watching an old Star Trek film that was to be aired on BBC2 later that night.

When the film had just begun, Sherlock gave up. He unlocked his door and came out in the sitting room where John ignored him. Holding onto his sheet tighter, he settled down next to the doctor watching him watching the movie.

When the credits rolled, John finally turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, what do you want?"

His answer made John gasp and blush again – not knowing how to understand it and what to say next. "You. I want you."

"Sher- Sherlock. What do you mean?" A thousand thoughts shot through John's brain.

The detective took a deep breath and began explaining. "It's you, John Watson, it's always been you. With you, I'm a better person; you _make_ me a better person. I need you. I needed you the whole two years that I've been away and only the thought that I may come back to you after eliminating Moriarty's network kept me alive. I- I depend on you and I know with you, it's the same." He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I know that I'm an utter arse most of the time but I also know that you stay with me even ten days into a case without sleep or food. You care for me and... and…" He found himself at a loss of words when he saw the tears in John's eyes. _Shit. Shit. Why does he cry? He shouldn't cry. He should be happy. I tell him that I love him and he cries. Not good. Not at all._

"John? Are you okay? Please – don't be mad. Please" He looked his friend in the eyes. _Did I do it wrong?_

"Come here." John pulled Sherlock into a tight embrace. "No I'm not mad. It's just – god. Feelings? And _talking_ about them? Who are you and what have you done to Sherlock I'm-an-emotionless-robot Holmes?" He smiled warmly at Sherlock.

"This Sherlock fell… He fell in love."

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**Awww, aren't they too sweet? I love you all for reading, following and favouriting. You guys rock. X**


	4. On A Date

**Day Four – On A Date**

"Hurry up, Sherlock!" John was annoyed. There were days when Sherlock didn't care about the bathroom at all and just launched around in his sheets, and then there were days where it _mattered_ that he smelled good and was shaven properly and this was today.

* * *

They had wrapped up the case the day before and Sherlock had slept for 20 hours straight. When he finally got up, he joined John in the kitchen and watched him prepare breakfast.

"I think I want to go out for dinner today." He stole one toast from the humming Doctor and ate it quickly. "We should go on a date tonight."

John's actions froze. _Date? Did he really just suggest a date?_ "Sherlock, what drugs did you take?" They hadn't spoken about the shift in their friendship yet. Yes, they had kissed that night and Sherlock in some strange way told him that he loved him, but afterwards they had gone to their own beds and the issue hadn't been brought up again.

"I didn't take any drugs. I'm serious. I kissed you; I told you that I have feelings for you, now I ask you out on a date." Sherlock really looked serious about this.

"Umm… I… I'm flattered, I really am but –"

"Angelo's is it then. At eight. I don't think we need to reserve a table." And with that, he left the kitchen and headed back to his room, not to be seen again that day. John stood speechless in the kitchen; jam dropped from his knife to the floor. A goofy grin seized his face. _A date is it, then._

* * *

"Sherlock, I'm serious. If you want me to go out with you then come out of the bathroom RIGHT NOW. It's five past eight and I really, really am hungry." The door to the bathroom finally flew open and Sherlock emerged. John felt his trousers tighten around himself as arousal rose. "You… you look… dear god." _That's how those teenagers in these bad American movies must feel like when their prom dates come down the stairs in their wonderful dresses_. But of course Sherlock didn't wear a dress. He was dressed in tight black woolen pants, the _purple shirt of sex_ (John had read that expression in one of the comments on his blog and thought of it as very fitting at the moment) and a matching black suit jacket. He looked like an angel, his pale skin in contrast to the dark clothes.

John gulped. "Let's go then." He picked up his coat and left for the door, followed by the detective.

"I thought we might walk there. It's a starlit night and Angelo's not that far away." John hummed in approval and gasped when suddenly cold long fingers embraced his short and warm ones. But he liked that. He liked that a lot and squeezed Sherlock's hand. They walked in silence until they reached Angelo's. Sherlock ushered them in without letting go of John's hand and they were immediately greeted by an overly happy Angelo.

"Sherlock, John! My favorite couple in the world! Your table is free! Come, come!"

John started correcting Angelo but stopped himself mid-sentence. "Angelo, we're not-" Gay? Sherlock was. Obviously. A couple? They were partners in crime but other than that, John wasn't sure. But they called this night a date. They both had dressed up (One of them _slightly_ exaggerating, as usual – not that John minded), they had walked here hand in hand.

And John was aroused around Sherlock, like constantly since his return; especially tonight. The doctor had thought a lot about his feelings for the detective these past days and was by now fairly sure that they were from a romantic nature. He cleared his throat. "Umm, yes. Thank you. We're starving." John was sure his head had turned into a bright tomato.

And all that Sherlock could do was grinning, from one ear to the other. He never thought that it could feel so great to go out with John just for the sake of going out. He could definitely get used to this – and a lot of other things. The sleeping in one bed for example. That had been fantastic and he planned on repeating that tonight. And the kissing. God, the kissing was _so_ good. Sherlock noticed how John didn't correct Angelo about their relationship. Maybe they weren't a couple – yet. Sherlock intended on changing this as soon as possible. He had deduced John's feelings for him long before the fall and had realized his own whilst he had been away. He needed this. He needed John.

They both ordered lasagna (John's favorite) and shared a bottle of Angelo's best white wine. The evening was great, Sherlock told John every detail about the case they had just wrapped up and John listened interested, happy to hear the rich baritone filled with so much joy and pride. But at some point, he got carried away by his thoughts. _Sherlock, the man I love. On a date with me. This is just too bizarre – I'd never thought he'd go on a date ever. I mean – it's Sherlock. He doesn't do feelings. Or does he? Finally? _John smiled and happily finished his meal.

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**Thank you all for reading, commenting and adding to faves. I plan on wrapping up two more chapters today and finishing this within one week - it's just too much fun and i can't stop writing. Love. X**


	5. Kissing

**To me, there's nothing more inspiring at the moment than listening to DIDO whilst writing - she may have influenced two or three thoughts in this plot.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my favourite princess, Svenjah **

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**Day Five – Kissing**

The dinner went by very fast, although the two of them remained in the restaurant long after finishing their meal, drowning another bottle of wine and talking. John told Sherlock what had happened in the surgery during the last week and though he wasn't interested at all, he still listened and soaked every word up in his mind palace just because he loved the sound of his friend's voice. When they finally left the place, it was nearly eleven and the full moon shone brightly down on London. Sherlock grabbed John's hand, entwined their fingers and led the older man towards the park. From there, it would take them about thirty minutes home, it was a detour, but John didn't mind. As it was a thursday night, there wouldn't be a lot of people in the park and his mind embraced the peaceful silence that came with an empty park at night.

They were already walking for about twenty minutes (21 minutes and 37 seconds to be exact as per Sherlock's counting) when the man in question abruptly stopped and turned towards John. He looked him in the eyes and cupped his face with his free hand, the other one still holding tightly onto John's. After sighing with a longing look in his eyes, he bent down and his dry lips met the doctor's warm and plush ones.

John couldn't suppress a giggle when they finally broke apart after snogging a good five minutes, both trying to catch their breaths. "I'm… uh, I'm sorry, really. It's... it's just… Making out in a park at night in the moonlight? That's so… cheesy." With that he leaned in to catch another kiss from the detective.

"You… mhh… you love cheesy…" Sherlock was already panting from the heated kisses they were sharing.

"I do, indeed. Brilliant observation, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock's hand wandered from John's cheek down to John's free hand and brought them both together at John's back, pinning his friend – _lover?_ – effectively against a tree, deepening the kiss. Their canoodling only got interrupted by an elderly woman who discreetly cleared her throat whilst passing by. "Flat?" Sherlock's colour-changing eyes were dark and full of lust.

The flushed doctor just nodded and pulled his detective down the path back to Baker Street.

* * *

It took them no more than nine minutes (eight minutes and 41 seconds exactly, thank you, Mr. Holmes) to get back to Baker Street, unlock the front door, snog a little in the hall but quickly remember that their landlady was probably home and get up in the flat they shared – with interruption (thanks again, Mr. Holmes) - for over four years now. They got rid of their coats and shoes, never breaking apart and then, Sherlock gripped John by his hips, shuffling him into his bedroom.

They collapsed on Sherlock's bed, Sherlock on top of John, and it didn't take them long to become one moaning, panting mess, kissing furiously and pulling on each other's clothes. "Too much… we… you… too much… between…" They broke apart, both catching their breaths (_again!_) and got rid of their clothes.

* * *

John felt glorious. Utterly wonderful and glorious. He pulled Sherlock closer; they were still out of breath. _What has just happened? How on earth could **this** happen? Never in my life have I reacted to another person like this_. The humming that escaped Sherlock's mouth sent vibrations through John's chest. _We came. We both came **simultaneously** simply from kissing._

Oh the kissing. Sherlock had never felt so good and alive before. The effect it had on him was hard to categorize in his mind palace, it was stronger, better than any drug, cigarette or case he could imagine. Better than a triple homicide locked from the inside. He felt his head redden as he slowly raised his head from John's chest to look him in the eyes. "You seem to have quite the effect on me, doctor Watson." He smirked.

"As you do on me, Mr. Holmes." John gently massaged Sherlock's scalp and made the detective purr like a cat. Sherlock wriggled up and pulled the blankets over them. He snuggled up against John's good shoulder and laid one arm on his chest, lazily drawing patterns on his abs. They were still very present, one wouldn't expect that. There are a lot of things Sherlock didn't expect. Including the words that escaped his mouth when he finally drifted off to sleep.

"I love you, Jaaawww...ngh." And with this last yawn came the eagerly awaited deep and nightmare-less sleep in his best friend's arms.

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**God, all the love and fluffiness leaves me feeling great as well. _Love is in the air... ;)_**

**Thanks again for everything. X**


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Sexy times ahead, whoop whoop. A little bit longer than usual - enjoy! :)**

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**Day Six – Wearing each other's clothes**

When John woke up the next day, he felt great. His sleep hadn't been interrupted by nightmares. When he turned to face Sherlock, the place next to him was empty. He took his phone out of his trousers that still lay in a mess with the other clothes (which made him crack a smile) and texted Sherlock.

_Where are you? –JW_

**_Experiment –SH_**

_Kitchen? –JW_

**_Bart's. –SH_**

_Come back. –JW_

**_Make me. –SH_**

_I am in your bed. Still naked. –JW_

**_Good try. –SH_**

_I need a shower... –JW_

**_Then get one –SH_**

John growled. Sherlock shouldn't be completely unaffected by this.

_Your cum and mine are still all over my belly… Somebody ought to clean it up. –JW_

**_If I were with you, I would certainly kiss and lick it off. –SH_**

_You'd probably make me hard again. –JW_

**_I do hope so. –SH_**

_What would you do about it? –JW_

**_I would slowly lick all the way from the base to the tip, making you pant and beg. Beg me to fuck you with my mouth. –SH_**

John swallowed; his mobile fell out of his hand. _Sexting. With Sherlock. _He quickly picked his phone back up and texted back.

_God yes. I would love that. –JW_

**_I would lick and suck on your tip, spread your precum. –SH_**

John couldn't help it. He _needed_ to touch himself.

**_Don't touch yourself. I know you want to. –SH_**

_What if I did? –JH_

**_This would never come true. –SH_**

John swallowed again. He really, _really_ wanted to touch himself, but he was well aware that Sherlock would know.

_I take you literally. What would you do next? –JW_

**_Tease you, of course… Touch you everywhere but not there… make you whimper, make you beg. –SH_**

_Touch me. Take me. Please. –JW_

John knew he wouldn't last any longer without a touch. One stroke… he couldn't possibly find out, could he?

**_Don't you dare to touch yourself. Wait for me. –SH_**

John blinked a few times. _Wait? Was he? _He then heard the front door slam shut and Sherlock's loud steps on the stairs, taking two at a time. _Three… Two… One…_

When Sherlock entered his bedroom, he found John in his bed, a shivering mess; his hands grabbing the sheets. "Good boy." He got rid of his coat and lay down on top of john, pressing his clothed erection against John's.

"I thought you were occupied?" Came John's question between two heated kisses.

"You had me at '_Where are you?'_" He gave john a devilish grin and trailed hot wet kisses down John's body, starting at his chin going all the way down to his happy trail.

John's back arched up. "Sherlock… Please" His cock twitched in anticipation. And Sherlock did. How he did. His skilled long tongue did everything he promised and more. John quickly became one whimpering mess, begging for release. "Sherl… Sher – Ah! Please! _Please…_" Came the pleas from his mouth. He growled, he hissed, It was so much, Too much and still not enough.

Sherlock loved all the noises John made due to him. He took his length all the way and down his throat, and when he backed up, he let his teeth scrape softly along the shaft. John cried out – in lust, in pain – neither of them was sure, and came. Thick white splashes of semen soon pooled on his belly and mixed with the cum from the night before.

His lungs burned. John tried to catch his breath and lay flat on the bed, barely noticing Sherlock's head that now rested right on his heart, listening to its fast rhythm. After what felt like an eternity, Sherlock removed his head from John's chest and began cleaning up the already drying sperm with his tongue, just like he had promised to. John lifted his head as much as he was able to and propped himself up on his elbows. "Sherl… Sherlock, dear. Don't you think a shower would be more effective?"

Sherlock straddled his friend and pulled him up into a deep kiss, making John taste himself. "Whatever you want. Wait here." He got up and left for the bathroom. He filled the bathtub with hot water and expensive bathing oil and laid two fluffy towels on the heater wanting them to become nice and warm. When he reentered the bedroom, John was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for further instructions.

Sherlock held out one hand. "Come." He helped John into the bath and slipped in behind him, so that John lay on top of him. They both relaxed into the warmth simultaneously.

"Thank you. That's actually really nice of you." John cuddled up against Sherlock, letting him once again draw lazy patterns on his chest.

"I am able to do nice things. It's just that most people aren't worth them."

"But I am?" John couldn't help but smiled.

"Of course you are. I love you." Sherlock placed a tender kiss on the back of John's head.

"I love you too."

* * *

They stayed in the bath until the water was so cold that they shivered. John got up and helped his friend out of the bath. He wrapped him in one of the warm towels and started drying his hair. Only then did he wrap himself in the other towel and followed Sherlock back out. "Imma catch some clothes upstairs. How about you put some water in the kettle? A tea would be nice."

"How about _you_ put water in the kettle after putting on these?" He threw a pair of fresh boxers and an oversized old shirt at him and smirked.

"I never thought I'd ever wear something of yours. I didn't even know you owned something like this. Thank you." He kissed Sherlock on the cheek and turned to the kitchen.

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**Well _that _was fun writing, and in the end, it matched the title. It did, okay? :D**

**Have a nice day lovelies, thanks for all the amazing stuff you can do here (follow, favorite, comment... ;) )**

**X**


	7. (Not Really) Cosplaying

**Well I have to admit that I didn't like the title of this one... Cosplaying is so not Johnlock... so again, just a bit at the end, the rest is feels, feels, feels (I must say I shed a couple of tears whilst writing...). To cheer us all up, I involved a bit Hobbitlock/Smauglock... whatever you call it ;)**

**This one is dedicated to my dearest Annika, get well soon x**

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**Day Seven – Cosplaying**

John lay on the couch, thinking. The past days felt so surreal to him, he was confused, happy, angry (mostly about himself) and curious. And so much more.

_Confused. _What were they now? Still friends? Still the best friends in the world? Or more? Were they… a couple? Boyfriends? Was there even a label in this world that could appropriately describe them? When he googled himself several weeks ago (admit it, everyone does so), he found the expression **JOHNLOCK**… John and Sherlock, Sherlock and John… special friends through and through. He sighed.

_Happy._ But it felt so good, so good how their - whatever it was they had – had shifted. So far he'd slept in Sherlock's arms twice – and these were the most relaxing and soothing nights probably since before he joined the army. He didn't have nightmares, probably didn't dream at all and he felt so well rested in the mornings. _I'm not actually gay_. No, he wasn't… but he wasn't straight either, that was for sure regarding the reactions of his body last night and in the morning. _Maybe I'm holmes-sexual_? But that would involve Mycroft. This thought made him crimp his nose in disgust.

_Angry._ Why didn't I say it earlier? I knew it for so long and I never did anything. Coward. Call myself _Captain John Hamish Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers_ and am still too embarrassed or too shy to admit my feelings towards my best friend. It feels like everybody knew it. Maybe it was because of Sherlock's words on their first night they knew each other. _I'm flattered… I consider myself married to my work…_ Maybe this hadn't changed. Maybe this was just some experiment for him. John swallowed.

_Curious. _What if it really was just an experiment to him? And no matter if or if not, was would happen next? John opened his eyes and looked over to his _whatsoever_ who had been staring at him the whole time. John cleared his throat. "You know, Sherlock, it's scary when you stare at me this way. How long have you been doing this now?"

"Long enough"

"Long enough for what?" John sat up, an embarrassed look on his face. He could already imagine where this was leading them.

"Long enough for me to deduce all of your thoughts." The detective rose from his chair and knelt down in front of John. "I love you. I said it more than twice, I'll say it again. I love you. I know that this sounds strange through my mouth but you know it and I know it. I hated being separated from you and the only thing that kept me upright was you. Without the thought of you, I would have gotten myself killed out there. But I fought to come back to you because when I fell, I realized that it was all because of you, all just for you, because you are the only one that matters. I don't show my feelings because I'm afraid, because feelings can hurt, but when I'm with you, I feel invincible and this is why I let you see my feelings. I let you see how scared I was in Baskerville, I let you see my tears when I jumped – though I'm fairly sure that we were too far apart for you to actually see the tears – and now I let you see how important you are by kissing you, by letting you sleep in my arms and by telling you that I love you. " Sherlock swallowed when he saw the tears pooling in John's eyes.

"No, I don't have a label for us either, and this is because you and I, this is something special, this is something that nobody else has. This is just you and I and I don't need the urgency to label it. Call me your friend, your best friend, your boyfriend, your partner, whatever it may be, I'm happy with it because it's what you want me to be. And I want to be everything for you.

Don't be angry with yourself. You knew it, I knew it, and now we finally talk about it and this is not too late. And for your last two questions: Yes I still consider myself married to my work, looks like I'm a cheater, huh? And you are a big part of my work as well, aren't you? Tell me about one case I would have wrapped up without your help. Because even if you're just standing next to me watching me deduce, it helps, it calms me.

"And yes, maybe this is some kind of experiment to me, but in a good way, because this is all very new to me and I have to learn a lot and to gather information about it."

John stared at Sherlock, mouth open, tears rushing down his face.

"Did I do it wrong?" A slight expression of hurt flashed across Sherlock's face.

"No, of course… No oh god, come up here." He pulled the taller man on his lap and held him by his dark curls, kissing him softly, expressing all his love through this kiss. "I love you. I love you just as much as you love me and nothing's ever gonna stop me."

* * *

They sat there for a while, enjoying the comfort they gave each other until Sherlock cleared his throat. "You know, Lestrade called earlier, he has a case for us. Interested?"

John looked up and met Sherlock's eyes. "Of course, dear. What's it about?"

"Well, we'd have to go undercover."

"As long as you don't dress me up in leather again… Sherlock? No, no, tell me, what have you planned?"

The devilish grin had returned to the detective's face. "Well the suspect is a cosplayer and well…"

"COSPLAYING?" Warning bells were ringing in John's head. "Say that again."

"You know how I don't like to repeat myself. Look, I actually bought something…" He climbed down from John's lap and fetched a bag from behind his chair.

John threw one glance in the bag. "What _is_ this?"

"It's two cosplaying-costumes. Hobbit for you, that dragon for me."

"That's typical. Why do _I_ have to be the hobbit?"

Sherlock looked at him with warm eyes. "Because you kind of _are_ a hobbit. You are my little hobbit." He planted a kiss on John's forehead. "Now let's get changed and solve the case."

* * *

**Did you like it? Did you cry? Please feedback, it means a lot to me. X**


	8. Shopping

**Sorry for no updates yesterday, I had a horrible day and wasn't up to writing. So I try and be extra diligent today :) enjoy!**

**Don't forget to review, follow, favourite... whatever suits you ;)**

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**Day Eight – Shopping**

It's been two weeks since Sherlock's big confession, and so far, there were no big changes and both were very happy with it. Their life kept on going just like before. John left the flat every morning around nine for the surgery (and Sherlock hated that even a little bit more than before), they solved cases together, John made Sherlock eat and sleep and both were quite content. There were kisses of course, casual ones (when John left and Sherlock was still sleepy, when they were shopping and hiding behind a pyramid out of cans of baked beans,…) and there were these heated ones which made both men kind of very aroused. They'd wank each other, of course, both orally and with their hands, but they were both not ready for penetration sex yet.

It was Saturday and John lay in their bed (as if he'd ever spend a night alone up in his room again), not wanting to get up yet. Sherlock had left the bed hours ago (of course) because _I can't lie around all day, I need to do something_. But, as the sweetheart that he was, he eventually brought John a cuppa and the newspaper (after lighting parts of it on fire). John rewarded him with a kiss.

At noon, John finally decided to get up and take a shower. When he entered the sitting room, he found Sherlock sprawled across the couch. "Sherlock. Tell me why you couldn't lie in bed with me. It would have been far more comfortable for you and better for your back." He bends down and kisses him on the forehead. "Get up now, we need to go shopping."

Sherlock pouted. "Shopping is boring."

"Sherlock I won't repeat what I said last week. We go shopping. Together. Every Saturday. exceptions are your birthday and when you're on an extremely tricky case. So get up now." He held out his hand in order to help his friend up but Sherlock grabbed the chance and pulled John on top of himself.

"Let's make out instead." He ran his tongue along John's jawline.

"That won't feed us. Let's go shopping now and I may or may not reward you when we get back." He winked seductively and pulled the detective up. "Common, big baby. We can buy the stuff I need for your favourite chocolate cake. You can watch me bake later."

Those were the magic words that actually pulled him up from the couch and into his coat and shoes, down the street. Tescos, here we come.

* * *

Half an hour later, the two of them stood in the middle of the shop, yelling at each other. "No Sherlock, we won't have ice cream for dinner. You're just like your brother, only ever craving for sweets and cake!"

"Don't you _dare_ comparing me with Mycroft!" Sherlock yelled back. He didn't see the point in eating healthy when it was so dull and it didn't even have any effect on his body (unlike his brother's).

"God help me!" John exclaimed in despair and let Sherlock drop the can of chocolate chip ice cream into the basket. It joined the ingredients for the cake as well as everything John needed for a good old fry up. He tossed in two bottles of white wine and one pack of cigarettes as well and headed for the check outs.

Sherlock followed John moodily for the rest of the shopping and didn't even look up once. That's why he didn't notice John throwing cigarettes in the basket. He was just too mad, although he got everything he wanted.

John's desperate voice made him finally look up. "Sherlock could you _please_ help me and make this mean machine shut up?" He was really exasperated. _Who invented these self-check outs? Why can't they put a silly student behind a register anymore?_

Sherlock shoved John to the side and got his wallet out of his coat in order to put his own credit card in the device. "Your magnetic strip is broken, I told you before." He pulled out the receipt and stuffed it in his pocket without even looking at it. "Let's go"

John picked up the bags and followed his mate out into the late afternoon sun. "Here, take one as well" He handed Sherlock one of the bags and turned around. "I want to walk home. It's not far from here and the sun is a nice alternation to the darkness of our flat."

Sherlock took the bag in his right hand and grabbed John's now free hand with his other. "Let's go then"

They remained silent until they reached their front door. _Shopping with Sherlock is quite the challenge,_ thought John at one point. _Am I really up to baking with him now?_


	9. Hanging Out With Friends

**Wrote this for Sandra, who did a brilliant job in cheering me up these last two days. A bit more fluff for y'all. I hope you enjoy it.**

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**Day Nine – Hanging Out With Friends**

"No John, this is not how I had imagined this day!" Sherlock was angry. Very angry. It was his John, only his. _I don't want to share my John. Especially today._

"Sherlock," John sighed. "You have to communicate with me, tell me about your plans."

"It should have been a _surprise_!"

"Well you could have told me that you planned a surprise." John rolled on his front and crossed his arms on Sherlock's chest and rested his chin on them. "It won't be that horrible, dear. Believe me. It's just you, me, Mycroft, Greg, Molly and Mrs. Hudson. And there will be cake. Your favorite even!"

Sherlock was still pouting. "I'd rather it was just you and me. And the cake and this bed."

"Afterwards. You, me and the bed. Friday night till Sunday night. Pinky promise." He lifted himself up to kiss Sherlock. "Come on dear, go take a shower and get dressed, they'll be here in half an hour."

_I hate birthdays. I hate sharing. I don't want to. _But he gets up nevertheless, holding out one hand. "You join me?"

"I'm afraid; we would probably not be prim and proper if we'd have shower sex now." John quickly got up and left for his room in order to get dressed. He still hadn't moved his stuff downstairs; his alarm and a book were his only belongings in Sherlock's bedroom so far. But it had only been three weeks so far, there was no hurry.

* * *

Sherlock was very moody all afternoon. He looked at his watch every other minute, wanting everybody to disappear. Sherlock hated traditions. Singing happy birthday (he sang only half-heartedly even though he knew how much John loved his singing), eating cake (it was only half as good as normally) and exchanging presents.

John however was very happy all afternoon. He loved being surrounded by his friends and was very much looking forwards to spending all weekend in bed with Sherlock. Last Sunday, they lay in bed for four hours. _Four hours._ That was the longest Sherlock had ever stayed in bed with John without doing something in particular. Whilst the doctor was reading, Sherlock watched him, storing every crinkle, every line and crease in his mind palace. He watched his breathing, how his chest rose and fell, how his feet wriggled every now and then (subconsciously, obviously). When John finally suggested getting up and having lunch, Sherlock yawned and stretched on the bed. 'I liked staying in bed so long. I could actually stay here all day.' This made John as happy as possible.

Although he loved spending time and chatting with his friends, John was happy when they finally gave him his presents. Not because he loves getting presents (he does), but because this meant that soon he and Sherlock would be alone again and could retreat in the bedroom. Who would have thought that Sherlock was a big cuddler? He even watched films with John almost every night because that meant that he could snuggle up against his boyfriend or lay his head on his lap getting massages on his scalp.

"Mine first!" Greg shot up from the couch and handed John his present. Sherlock who sat on John's armrest whispered in his ear: "A scarf, matching mine, in grey."

"Sherlock!" John scolded him laughingly and opened the present. "Thank you Greg. It will come in very handy. And you – stop deducing my presents!"

Molly gave him a book, Mycroft earplugs (_really, really funny!_) and Mrs. Hudson a new pan (his favorite one got blown up by one of Sherlock's dreadful experiments last week). When everybody was gone, John started cleaning up and doing the dished. "Was it that horrible, Sherlock?"

"Yes it was! My brother occupied my chair, Greg was dumb as ever, I didn't have a present to give to you because it hasn't arrived yet and I couldn't kiss you when I had the urge to do so."

John frowned and turned to his friend. "Why didn't you kiss me when you wanted to? You have every right to do so!"

"I do?" Sherlock looked like a small child, giving John a shy glance through his thick lashes.

John made the two steps towards his flat mate and laid his arms around his waist. "Of course you do. You are my boyfriend, who else ought to have the right to kiss me whenever he wants?"

Sherlock blushed. "But the others were around."

John kissed him lightly. "Are you ashamed of me? Are you embarrassed of kissing me in front of our friends?"

"What? No! No, of course not! I… I just thought.. you… I mean…"

"Because they don't know yet? Because we're not official?"

Sherlock swallowed. "I thought you didn't want to go official. I thought… because… you always correct everybody about us and…" He trailed off, abashed by his obvious mistake.

"God Sherlock." John couldn't help but kissed him all over his face. "I _love_ you. I just called you my _boyfriend_; you did hear that, didn't you? My hand rested most of the afternoon next to yours and I actually hoped that you would take it. It doesn't matter what others think about us because A, This is just about you and me and B, most people think that we're in a relationship anyway. You know what? Hang on a minute!" He went to Sherlock's desk and picked up a piece of paper and a pen, quickly writing a note and then handing it to Sherlock.

"What is this?"

"Read it!" John grinned. The last time he did this he had probably been sixteen or something like that. But Sherlock made him feel like a mad teenager all the time so it just felt like this was the right thing to do.

**_Do you want to date me officially?_**

**_[]Yes_**

**_[]No_**

**_[]Maybe_**

Sherlock had to laugh. "Well this is… sweet? Yes! Yes of course I want to! I love you." He kissed his boyfriend thoroughly. "You want to have your present now?"

John looked up confused. "I thought it hasn't arrived yet?"

"Part of it, the main part. But I can give you a smaller part of it now. You'd have to get up in your room and wait for me."

"Well then," he kissed Sherlock once again, "Hurry up!"

John let go of the detective and went for his room. _What did he buy me that he could only give me in my room?_ He was very curious and a little bit scared as well.

* * *

**...What has Sherlock bought? We'll find out in the next chapter. I can hopefully get it up tonight but I don't want to make promises. **

**Please comment, favorite, follow... means a lot! :) X**


	10. With Animal Ears

**Sooo, we've already reached day ten... wow. One third. Can't quite believe it. **

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**Day Ten – With Animal Ears**

Sherlock entered John's room ten minutes later with moving boxes and a piece of paper in his arms. "Surprise!" he beamed excitedly.

"Moving boxes? Do you want me to move out?"

"Out of this room, yes." He threw the piece of paper in John's lap. "Look!" John unfolded the sheet. "I ordered a new wardrobe that'll fit all of our stuff but it won't arrive until Monday. Therefore we'll have to pack up all of our belongings and dismantle the old wardrobe.

John felt a knot form in his chest. "You… oh wow." He swallowed. "I didn't expect this. Wow."

"Not good?" Sherlock whispered. _Shit. Too fast._

"No. No, no, no, no, no. Sherlock no. Come here." He embraced his friend and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. Really. This is the best present I could have imagined. I just didn't expect it from you. It really surprises me. Do you want to fill these boxes now or later?"

"We could fill yours now and mine later. That's if you want me to help you, we can also split and both fill our boxes simultaneously."

"Of course I want you to help me. I'm sure that we'll find some funny stuff in the shoals of my drawers."

"Like these?" Sherlock had opened the last drawer and found a pair of cat-ears and a pair of bunny-ears.

John laughed. "Yes, just like these. " He took the bunny-ears and put them on. "Remember the party where we wore these? One of the duller case, even though that party was quite funny."

"Yeah, until the cake exploded. What a waste!" He laughed as well and put the cat-ears on. "Got to keep these!"

"You child!" They emptied all drawers in less than two hours and then went on with John's wardrobe.

Sherlock pulled out a suit bag. "What's in here?" He opened it and pulled out John's old uniform. "Oh… Does it still fit?" He smirked.

John frowned. "Umm… I don't know, haven't worn it in ages. I don't think so."

"Will you try? I'd love to see it on you." Sherlock blushed and handed john the bag.

The ex-army hesitated but then took the bag and laid it on the bed. "Why not?"

The uniform was tight but surprisingly still fit him and didn't look bad at all. Sherlock had to laugh nevertheless. "These ears look absolutely ridiculous. Let me kiss you, captain bunny!"

"Come here, messmate kitty" He pulled Sherlock in for a sweet kiss. "I love you."

The detective hummed into the kiss. "I'd so love to rip this uniform off of you and make love to you right here and now. Let's empty your wardrobe so that we can finally go to bed."

John gulped audibly. "Make love as in…" He trailed off, not finding the right words to form his question, but Sherlock understood.

"If you're up to it. I really want to try it."

This made John smile shyly. "Yes, yes. Me too." He pulled Sherlock down for a kiss and wiggled with his animal ears. "Let's hurry up then."

They managed to empty John's room within five hours despite the fact that they got distracted fairly easily. It was nearly midnight when they finally collapsed on their bed, exhausted and happy. Sherlock rolled on top of John and pulled on his bunny ears. I like these. They make you look… extra cute."

"You know that I don't like being referred to as 'cute'", John mock-pouted. "It's not my fault that I'm that small."

"You're not small, you're… compact. Yes, compact. The perfect size to put you in my pocket." He grins.

John laughed "Well if you say that." He pulls Sherlock's cat ears out of his thick curls and throws them to the floor. Then he pulls out his pair and they soon join the others on the floor. "As I'm the birthday boy, can I wish for something?"

"Anything, John. Anything you want." Sherlock smiled fondly at his partner. He felt so much happier than all day, now that he and John finally lay on their bed, cuddling and kissing. His fingers itched to touch John's skin, all of it.

"John had to clear his throat. He was already so aroused that his voice threatened to fail him. "I want you to make love to me. Show me how much you love me."

"There's nothing I'd rather do right now." His fingers skimmed under John's jacket and he started undressing him.

* * *

**Hehehe... sexy times ahead, whoop whoop! Isn't that what we all waited for? ;)**

**I love each and everyone of you. X**


	11. Doing A Role-Play

**This was a tough one. The actual theme was "_Wearing Kigurumis", _but there are certain things (Kigurumis being one of these) that I don't want to think about in one thought with Sherlock or John. So I changed this chapter to "Doing A Role-Play". I hope you enjoy it. **

**Sexy times ahead! ;)**

**I wrote this for my best friend as she's had a couple of bad days, send her some love! X**

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**Day Eleven – Doing a role-play**

"I love you." he undid the first button on John's shirt.

"I love you." the second button was to follow.

"I love you." John squirmed under Sherlock's touch.

"I love you." Sherlock's fingers brushed lightly over John's chest as his shirt was being undone.

"I love you." the doctor thought about a thousand things he wanted to say but all he could produce were whimpers and soft moans.

"I love you." Sherlock pulled the shirt down from John's shoulders and threw it across the room. When he undid the belt and only moments later pulled down John's trousers, his lover was already a shivering mess, looking into his eyes with a regard full of love and desire.

"I need you" was whispered into John's ear when Sherlock finally lay down next to him, gently nuzzling at his neck.

"You have me" was everything John could say before a loud groan escaped his throat, evoked by a slicked-up finger that had entered him without warning. He gasped and grabbed the sheets, overwhelmed by the sensation. It was an alien feeling and it did hurt in the first place, but at the same time it felt good, so good, and the doctor wanted more. He wiggled his hips subconsciously, forcing Sherlock's finger deeper in. After a few minutes of adjusting, Sherlock added a second finger and soon found John's prostate. He scissorred his fingers, preparing his lover for him.

John was panting; he could barely control himself anymore. "GOD, Sherl… Sherl… AAHH!" His back arched up in pleasure. "Take… Take me. Now. Ple… PLEASE!" The third finger brought the sensation to a whole new level. Sherlock couldn't quite contain himself any longer as well. He briefly closed his eyes in an attempt to steady his breath before the pulled out his fingers and replaced them through his already leaking cock.

John felt so full. He gasped and opened his eyes wide in shock. This was so much different to what he'd expected. He expected it to hurt, to tear him apart, but in fact; it was the most pleasurable pain he could have imagined. It wasn't exactly pain what he felt, but his brain was too cloudy to think of a better term. Only then, he noticed that Sherlock had stilled and looked down on him with concern in his eyes. "I… god Sherlock MOVE! I'm good, it's... awesome. Go on!" He wrapped his legs tightly around Sherlock's waist and forced him further in.

Sherlock picked up a slow pace and bend down to kiss his doctor, his good doctor, his… "JOHN!" He picked up speed and took John's member in one hand stroking him in a matching pace.

"I… Sher… I… I'm so close…" John threw his head back on the pillow only to raise it back up again and capture the detective's lips with his. They both came simultaneously, riding each other through their orgasms.

That was it. John was sure. This was the best sex he'd ever had. "God this was…" He was still at a loss of words. "…awesome"

Sherlock, who had collapsed onto him, rolled on his back and took a deep breath. "Wow." This was everything he was able to produce apart from a soft moan when his and John's lips connected again.

John nuzzled against Sherlock's chest. "Thank you", he murmured sleepily. "This was the best birthday ever." But Sherlock was already fast asleep.

* * *

When Sherlock awoke the next morning, John was cuddled against him. He carefully got up in order not to wake him and went to the kitchen. He filled the kettle and popped two slices of bread in the toaster. He wanted to make breakfast for his… _captain_. This thought led him to an idea that made him grin.

The smell of bacon, toast and tea woke John up. He stretched on the bed and felt sore, in a good way. He heard Sherlock work in the kitchen und decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and pretend to be asleep. After a few minutes he heard Sherlock open the door and put a tray on the bedside table. "Good morning, love" He opened his eyes and looked up in the gorgeous face that belonged to Sherlock Holmes.

"Is my Captain up for breakfast?"

"Yes, messmate Holmes." He chuckled. "You may serve the breakfast now."

"Yes sir." He picked up the tray and placed it on John's lap, and then he crawled on the bed next to John. "Does my Captain want me to feed him?"

"Please. Bacon first."

"We aim to please, sir." Sherlock cut a piece of bacon and lay it in John's mouth.

"Mhh, good. Well done, Holmes. More!" John quickly found himself in his captain mode again, and god how he enjoyed it. For once in his life he got to boss Sherlock around. They finished their breakfast and when Sherlock re-entered the bedroom after bringing the tray back to the kitchen, John stood in the middle of the room stark naked. "Does my soldier want his gratification now?"

Sherlock swallowed. John was so beautiful. "Y.. Yes, please. Sir." John took his hand and opened Sherlock's dressing gown. He slid two fingers in the waistband of his pants and slid them down. Sherlock stepped out of them and let his gown slide down to the floor. John took his hand once again and pulled him in the shower. "Wash me."

A shiver went down Sherlock's spine. "Yes"

"Please?" John lightly slapped Sherlock's behind.

"What did you say?"

"Yes, Sir." Sherlock picked up his own expensive body wash and lathered a bit up between his palms. He started at John's shoulders and worked his hands down his body, worshipping every scar, every wrinkle, every freckle. John moaned under Sherlock's touch, this was so arousing. Sherlock turned him around and took more of the body wash, attempting to clean his back and behind. Then, he wrapped one arm around John's waist, pulling him close. His other hand settled on John's hard prick. "Does my captain want me to help him with this… problem?" His voice had dropped at least one octave.

"Go right ahead." John groaned. Sherlock worked him off thoroughly and John came in thick spurts. He moaned and cried out Sherlock's name. "Sherl… Sher… god SHERLOCK. Jesus _fucking_ Christ. Oh I love you." He felt his bones go limp after his intense orgasm. "Let's… let's go back to bed. Please."

Sherlock left the shower and quickly dried himself before he held out a warm and fluffy towel for his captain. "Come out here, Captain Watson, and let me take care of you."

* * *

**Oh yes, the sexy times, how happy they make. **

**Please follow, favourite, review... it's much appreciated! :) X**


	12. Making Out

**Guys I'm honestly so sorry for the lack of updates! I really really am. College has started again and real life came in between me and my / our fandom. **

**On the positive note: _Richard III? Both of them? Couldn't be more excited!_ Are you guys gonna see Martin on stage this summer? I sure as hell will do!**

**Have a better day than I do - I'm off to work now. Urgh. Hope to update thursday the latest. Lots of love! X**

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**Day Twelve – Making out**

John was as happy as could be. He and Sherlock had spent a wonderful weekend alone, without work, without calls – just the two of them. On Monday morning, the new wardrobe was brought and set up and John put all of their stuff in it whilst Sherlock lay on their bed watching him and giving him 'advices' every now and then. "You know, you could actually help me!"

"But that wouldn't be half that funny." That was the end of the discussion.

John used the silence to think about what he wanted to do with his old bedroom. They wouldn't need it anymore in their old purpose. Then, he had an idea. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?" The detective had nearly fallen asleep. "Whatcha want?"

John crawled on the bed, exhausted from unpacking the boxes. "I thought about what we could do with my old bedroom."

"With what stupid idea did you come up?" Sherlock didn't want his question to sound as harshly as it did.

"Well… I might forget about it again if you keep talking to me like this, but I thought that you might like to get your own small lab up there."

Sherlock blinked unbelievingly at his doctor, not having expected this proposition. "You… you mean… you don't want to keep it?"

"Do I have to?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Of course not. I mean I just… thought that you wanted to keep some space for yourself for when I'm being a dick."

The thought made John laugh. "But then again, in case this happened, I could still throw you out and up in your lab to do some weird experiments to calm you down." He scuttled in a very hedgehog-y way onto Sherlock's lap and pulled the detective in for a deep kiss. "We can have the walls tiled and go buy you a big metal table that doesn't burn as easily as our kitchen table."

After a few more minutes of making out, the detective finally agreed. "A lab is it then." And he grinned in a very childish manner.

* * *

Ten days later, it had all been finished. The walls had been tiled in a very light blue, nearly white (Mrs. Hudson had the privilege of picking the tiles). John bought a very expensive lab-desk (an early Christmas-present for Sherlock) and all of Sherlock's experiment utensils were moved upstairs. The detective joyfully started experimenting right away and John and Mrs. Hudson used his absence to deep-clean the kitchen.

When he went to bed on that very night, John was very content. He heard Sherlock working upstairs and didn't want to disturb him, so he went to bed alone, falling asleep whilst listening to the muffled bustle in his former bedroom.

On the second night, John came home exhausted from work, falling asleep almost instantly after having a sandwich and a cuppa. He hadn't seen Sherlock all day and wasn't exactly happy about that. But he wasn't in the mood of fighting either so he just went straight to bed.

It was on the fourth night, that John finally had enough. It was Sunday and Sherlock had only left his lab to change into another gown as the one he had worn inexplicably had caught fire. John stormed up in the lab. "Sherlock! I am really happy that you love your lab so much, but after barely having seen you for four days and nights in a row, it feels like you love this room more than you do love me!"

Sherlock whirled around, shocked. "You don't really think that?" His gaze was shocked which made John almost giggle.

He didn't mean it literally, of course not. He was just so sad that he hadn't seen his detective more often these past few days. He mock-pouted. "Well I don't know… maybe? But you better try to make it up to me!" By now, the doctor really had to suppress a laugh. He turned on his heels and stomped down the stairs as dramatically as possible.

Sherlock was soon to follow; he only had to return midway because he had forgotten to turn off the Bunsen burner. He then went straight past the pouting doctor on the sofa to the kitchen, turned on the kettle and prepared two mugs of tea. When the teas were just the way they preferred it, witch milk and everything, he came back to the living room, handing John his cup with a gloomy expression on his face. "I didn't want you to feel this way. I was just so excited." He knelt down on the floor in front of his now smiling partner."

"I know, love." John put his mug next to Sherlock's on the side table and held out his arms towards his detective. "Come up here and make me feel loved."

And Sherlock was very glad to follow.

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**I'm sure you want to review now, do you? Dou you? You do. If not - a follow and favourite are appreciated as well ;) I know, I'm a sucker. Can't help it :D**

**X**


	13. Eating ice-cream

**I could tell you all the apologies in this world for my lack of uploading, but I'm afraid they wouldn't help, would they? Instead I offer you some virtual tea and some cookies to go along with this new chapter. **

**Thank you for all your support, it's appreciated! X**

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**Day 13 – Eating ice-cream**

It's been three months. Three whole months since John had to clean the kitchen from possibly dangerous chemicals or throw toenails and intestines out of the fridge. Three months of eating on the actual dining table and boiling water in the actual kettle. John smiled as he chopped up potatoes for the soup he wanted to have tonight. Because three months of a clean kitchen also meant three months since his birthday aaaand thus four months since his and Sherlock's first kiss.

They hadn't gone official just yet, but most of their friends already knew, as there had been chaste kisses on crime scenes when they knew that nobody except for maybe Lestrade (because he was a friend) or Donovan (because she was shit and deserved it) could see them. There were also not so chaste kisses in the morgue because they knew the corpses couldn't see them (for obvious reasons) and Molly was happy for them (at least they hoped so. But then again, it was Molly after all.)

Sherlock came down from his lab and joined his lover in the kitchen where he watched him cooking. "You know, you could actually help me!" said John as he turned to face the detective and kiss him briefly on his temple.

"I could, but then again, I don't want to. I prefer watching you." Sherlock grinned and leant back in his chair. "What are we having tonight?"

John turned back to the stove and added noodles to the already boiling soup. "Your favourite, chicken soup."

"And for dessert?"

John smirked and blushed slightly. "Whatever you want, love."

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Even though the table was safe for food, they settled on the couch in order to watch the newest episode of Doctor Who whilst slurping their soup. It was a silent night, both men enjoying the silence for once. The last months had been stressful; it seemed as if most murderers preferred the late summer and early fall for their 'activities'. John even had had to give up his job at the surgery (very much to Sherlock's delight) because of the high number of cases. Most of them came over Sherlock's website or John's blog and were rather profitable. They had a good life, they were both happy.

And still, there was one thought, that had begun to form in Sherlock's head and he couldn't get rid of it. To be precise, it was a combination of thoughts, bad ones and nice ones, most of them full of tears (John's tears of course, as if Sherlock would ever cry again. *cough*). It was unnerving.

John got up and brought their empty bowls to the kitchen. "So Sherlock, have you decided on a dessert?" John was very content, he could make Sherlock eat at least one meal a day and in the morning, Sherlock joined him in his tea.

"Do we still have some of that chocolate ice-cream?" Ice-cream was his guilty pleasure. First ice-cream, then John. Delicious.

John came back to join him under the blanket and handed him a bowl of ice-cream and a spoon. "You don't want any?"

The doctor smirked. "I thought that you might be in the mood to share today." He winked and opened his mouth in anticipation of some sweet chocolaty deliciousness. But Sherlock had something else in his mind. He kissed the corner of John's mouth and murmured "close your mouth, John". The doctor obliged and was just about to get up and his own bowl, when Sherlock licked up a big spoonful of ice-cream and bent down. He kisses John thoroughly and shared his ice-cream. John moaned in surprise and arousal, this being the most sensual way he'd ever had ice-cream. He was right out panting now. "More, please" he whispered and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes. Dark glances were exchanged, more ice-cream was shared, and the air around the two of them was boiling. They were so focused on each other, that they didn't even hear the creak of the sixth step up to their flat.

Holy shit. Mrs Hudson.


	14. Genderswapped

**You lucky unicorns. Two chapters in one day. Enjoy! X**

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**Day 14 – Genderswapped**

A dream. Yes, it must be a dream. Sherlock couldn't possibly… could he? Probably. _Would_ he? No. No, he wouldn't. But then again… John screamed at the top of his voice when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the inside of his bedroom's door. Stop. His bedroom? Hadn't it been transformed into something some time ago by someone? John tried to remember but failed miserably. Can't… concentrate….

_Breasts. _That's all he had in his head. Breasts. And a vagina. He opened his door and stepped right under the spray of an ice cold shower. _Maybe the water will make it disappear. Please, please, please, pretty please._

All of this wouldn't have happened if Sherlock… _Sherlock!_ He won't love me anymore, will he? Won't want to touch me, won't want to make love to me anymore… Silent tears felt down his cheeks and pooled along with the shower water down at his feet, blue and green water mingling together.

John stepped out of the shower and was immediately dressed in a nice wedding dress, long, white, with lace and silk. He looked in the mirror and screamed again. His long blonde curls (_curls? long?_) were pinned up neatly on his head. His face looked… strange. He turned around and found himself in Mrs Hudson's kitchen, their landlady dressed in a light blue costume. "Oh you look gorgeous. You're such a pretty lady!"

John wanted to reply something, ask something, scream something. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Don't look so frightened, love." Sherlock stood behind him and lay one arm around his curvy waist. _Curvy waist?_ "It's just a marriage. It will hardly kill you."

John's mouth fell open. He turned around just to see Sherlock in a black tuxedo, smiling down at him. "M… marriage?" It seemed to make sense but somewhere back in his mind, he knew that this was wrong, oh so wrong.

"Hence this beautiful dress you're wearing. You look marvellous." Sherlock kissed him and grabbed his hand. They turned around and walked down the aisle, out of a chapel full of the people they loved. Everyone was there, everyone cheered and most ladies cried, including John himself.

_Did I just refer to myself as a lady?_ The rice fell down at them and doves flew up in the sky. Sherlock still held onto one of his hands, but the other one felt as if it was on fire. John looked down to his right hand where he could see two slim silver bands on his annular. When did he and Sherlock get engaged? Through his left hand, he could feel Sherlock's single ring. Sherlock proposed, then. But when? And how? John couldn't remember, no matter how hard he tried. And the biggest of all the questions – even bigger than the one about the breasts and the vagina – was: How come he said yes? He always thought that if – _IF_ – he'd ever get married, he'd be the one to propose. But marriage had never been something he'd honestly considered. Dreamed of, yes of course. Especially during his army days, when the nights were long and lonely. He never thought he'd meet someone, he never thought he'd be that lucky… he sat down and closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, he sat on their sofa. As he attempted to get up, a sharp pain rolled through his back. His hand flew forward on his belly – _his pregnant belly!_ He wasn't really surprised when he fainted.

* * *

John's alarm went off at 8 am precisely. He slammed it silent and turned to roll into a sitting position. Only then, he noticed that his pregnant belly had gone missing. Just like his boobs. One firm grip down under the blanket confirmed it: Jup, he was John again. He sighed in relief and fell back on his pillow. The rings on his hand were gone as well, thank god. John stretched out and hugged his still sleeping lover (_not husband or fiancé, just for the record!_). "Sherlock! Get up." He peppered his neck with soft kisses.

Sherlock stretched under John's touches like a lanky cat. He cracked his eyes open and sent a loving glance up towards John. He yawned. "Jaaawn. Morning…" He pulled the doctor down and captured his lips with his own. Only then he opened his eyes fully and looked at John's face. He deduced him.

John squirmed uncomfortably under Sherlock's scan. "Sherlock! Stop deducing me!"

"You had a dream – a nightmare? It was about us… but we didn't die… no, you would have woken up and screamed. _oh. _You did scream – in your dream, did you? What could it have been… I did something… an exper-"

"STOP IT, Sherlock!" John jumped up. "It doesn't matter; I've already forgotten half of it." He left the bedroom, highly embarrassed and confused. Sherlock lay back down on his pillow and closed his eyes.

What had John dreamed about? He kept asking him all day, both subtle and not so subtle until finally late that night, when John stood under the shower, attempting to wash off the residues of a corpse him and Sherlock had pulled out of the mud earlier that evening, John gave up. He drew the shower curtains away and stared angrily at the detective who sat on the rug in the middle of the bedroom. "I woke up and was a woman, okay? And we married and I was pregnant. Are you happy now?" He turned off the tabs and grabbed his towel, hastily drying himself off.

"And that was so horrifying that you couldn't tell me?" Sherlock got up and followed John into their bathroom.

"No, love. God, no. " John hugged his detective and kissed him softly. "Not horrible, just… disturbing. I don't know. Let's just go to bed now, okay?" He let his towel fall to the floor and pulled Sherlock to the bed in order to distract him from the thoughts and questions he could practically see forming behind the beautiful light creases on his forehead.

_Marriage. Interesting._

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